Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
The door opens itself
into a cave: it holds
a lover’s night.
A caged monsoon.
The room is its own
prisoner. It handcuffs
a silence to the bed.
The day waits
to grow complete.
How can it,
without you?
You are its pillow
at the end of a bed,
the day’s backrest.
Socks become balls
in shoes, the shirt
droops for attention
on the old chair’s
hard shoulders.
The hankie grows old
in my pocket. It misses
your stabs at its stains.
Every hotel-room night,
I want to escape with you
to a life without nights,
where days end,
not into the darkness
of electric switches,
but into you,
where I’m stitched,
as holy books to ears,
into the leather
of your dreams.
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